Escaping the Wasteland
by dontaskimdissapointed
Summary: A lone sentinel pilot has a malfunction and is left stranded in the wasteland that is a war zone. The battle has past by leaving the soldier stranded and, as far as he knows, alone. Escaping will be nearly impossible, and also very lonely.
1. Chapter 1

**The summer is over, we are now way into fall and only now am I releasing something. I had to work all summer, my computer broke and I lost all my previous stories (hence Fall of Churnya being removed) and have been going nuts to butts at University. I've already written the first couple chapters for this story, and I plan on simplifying things a little as well as make the plot move a little faster. Any ways, thanks for the continued support, and hope you enjoy. I will try and update as regularly as possible, but I'm way past making any promises.**

The Sentinel groaned to a halt, the momentum of the massive mechanical leg finishing it's movement before slowly settling into the mud. Gun smoke, laying thick and heavy across the ground, swirled about the now unmoving legs of the fighting machine. The engine sputtered and died, an uncomfortable quietness filling the air. The distant pop of discharging las guns and echoing thump of artillery became distinct and discernible.

Inside the fighting compartment of the imperial vehicle the driver flicked the ignition switch off and on. There was a cough as the engine fought desperately for life, but was quickly replaced by silence. With an angry groan, muffled by a rebreather mask, the Sentinel operator slammed his fist on the console.

Lifting himself up with the creak of leather and the squeak of military boots on knurled metal, the driver grabbed his las pistol and opened the roof hatch of the fighting machine. The comforting glow of the green interior lamps was replaced by the cold grey light of the sky. Making sure his rebreather mask was securely in place, the driver pulled himself out of the hatch.

Around the unmoving vehicle mud stretched as far as the eye could see, with little change in elevation, and few objects to break up the monotony aside from the occasional patch of barbed wire or battlefield debris. What looked like a trench was visible off in the distance, cutting across the mud and craters.

Rory straightened his black beret before climbing down the ladder mounted to the hull, moving around the outside of the vehicle towards the engine compartment. Steam rose from just below where the exhaust pipes connected to the vehicle, and the young soldier opened the hatch.

He was blinded momentarily as steam fogged up the goggles of the rebreather mask. Using the back of his sleeve to wipe them clear, he leaned in to inspect the engine. Steaming liquid spluttered from a red corrugated pipe, which he identified as the main coolant line. Rory let out a groan of dismay. The vehicle couldn't run without coolant; the powerful engine wouldn't be able to work at a functional temperature for hours, and even then he would only be able to move a short stint.

All imperial equipment was made from standardized templates, so a replacement pipe of the correct diameter wasn't uncommon. But there was little hope of finding one in the wasteland that was the battlefield. His radio antenna had been shot to bits by a strafing attacker, which he had been lucky hadn't completely ripped his lightly armoured vehicle apart, so there was no chance of contacting regimental command.

He pulled back his beret and pushed his sweaty brown hair off his forehead. His options were to stay with his vehicle and wait for help to arrive, which could be never, or venture out and try and scavenge the necessary pipe.

Considering the likelihood of assistance and enemy contact were about equally high, Rory quickly decided on the latter. He clambered back into his vehicle, grabbing what supplies he would need: las pistol, canteen, satchel with some food and tools, a Thermos of tea and a flash light. He didn't plan on spending more than a few hours searching, and wanted to be back before nightfall.

Regretfully exiting the vehicle, Rory slid down the cabin, and dropped the two metres, boots squelching into the deep mud. He checked over his gear, making sure that everything was in place, before taking off at a stride. The most obvious destination was the trench which he had spotted from on top of the Sentinel. If he was lucky there would be a Mechanichus dugout, or perhaps a machine he could salvage parts from. But he would have to be very lucky.

Each step forward was tiring, the mud tugging at his boots. He guessed it was about half a click to the trench, although it felt farther. It was a boring walk, and he spent the time listening to the distant sounds of battle. He could make out explosions in the distance, the flashes muted by the smog.

Twenty minutes later Rory was standing at the top of the earthworks, looking down into the trench. It was about three metres deep, and a metre across. The sides were supported by wooden planks and sandbags. Duck-boards lined the floor of the trench, in some places submerged by puddles.

Rory dropped down into the trench. He landed with a crunch on the wooden duck-boards, and they visibly sunk a little. He began to make his way along the trench, creeping as quietly as he could. He could feel water beginning to seep into his standard issue boots, and he avoided the deep, dirty looking puddles that lined the trench floor.

Rory was on edge, but had little faith in anything being alive out here. Just as he was thinking this he rounded a corner in the trench and came face to face with the business end of a las gun. He threw himself back around the corner, heart beating and hands scrambling at his holster for his las pistol. It took him a moment to realise that if there had been an enemy holding the weapon he would probably be dead.

Peeking around the corner he took in his assailant. The corpse of a guardsman was propped up on a firing step, las gun held at the ready in the dead man's firm grip. There was a massive hole in the soldiers chest, and intestines spilled out of the gap.

Rory felt a mixture of nausea and relief wash over him. The goggles of the dead man's rebreather mask were fogged up, and what skin was visible was pale and colourless. The man had been dead for a while, probably more than a day. Gingerly stepping past the corpse, Rory carried on down the trench.

A short communication trench led downwards, until Rory was standing in a deep open area, about five metres square, and perhaps four metres deep. Dugouts were dug into the walls of the area, and Rory let out a whoop of joy when he saw a Mechanicus skull over the entrance to a concrete tunnel. Ignoring the dugouts on either side Rory strode up to the entrance to the bunker. The solid blast door hung open ajar, and after getting a solid grip the Sentinel operator put all his might into pulling.

There was a loud groaning, and the sound of metal grinding on concrete. The solid door slowly swung outwards, until there was enough room for the soldier to fit through. Flicking on his lamp, Rory swept the beam up and down the dark stairways.

Daylight filtered downwards, picking up the dust floating in the air. Water dripped from the sealing, forming a tiny trickle that ran down the stairs and pooled at the bottom. Different coloured moss and fungus grew along the walls and algae had built up along a crack in the ceiling.

Rory began his descent, one hand keeping the torch beam level, the other gripping his pistol. At the bottom of the stairs, the ground flattened out. A hallway ran a short distance, with two rooms branching off on either side. It was pitch black, and cobwebs drifted lazily from the slight breeze cause by the open door.

The first room contained shelves holding jerry cans and drums of fuel. Most of the drums were empty, but Rory managed to find a couple of almost full jerry cans. He propped them up against the wall by the exit so that he would remember to grab them as he left. The next room was almost entirely empty, save for a cracked desk and empty filing cabinets. There were papers scattered across the floor, but they were all in either high Gothic, which Rory had never learned to read, or machine code.

The third room held a small alter to the machine god, as well as a generator. After propping his flash light against the alter, Rory set to work pulling the generator apart. He wasn't entirely sure how the machine worked, but he knew that if he could find a pipe of the same diameter as the broken one, it should work.

He had brought the cracked coolant line with him, and began pulling the generator apart, comparing the parts he found to the broken hose. After about ten minutes of straining his eyes in the less than adequate light, he finally found a pipe that was not only the same diameter, but also almost the exact same length. It smelled of promethium, but after rinsing it out with some of the water from his canteen he was sure it would serve its purpose.

Just as he was about to leave, Rory heard a slight crack from the hallway. He spun around, pistol levelled.

"Who's there?" He said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. The only reply was the reverberation of his voice off the concrete walls. He began edging sideways towards the lamp. When he felt the alter against his boot, he dropped to one knee, scrambling with his hand for the light.

There was a clatter as the light span off his shaking fingertips and began rolling across the ground towards the door. He cursed his own clumsiness and began moving towards it. Again his fingers wrapped around the metal torch. For a second his eyes glanced downwards, towards the light.

There was a flurry of movement, of armoured feet pushing off concrete. Rory brought his las pistol up but it was too late. The gun discharged and a figure collided with the tall man, sending him sprawling backwards. The flash of the gun revealed his assailant. A figure clad in white armour, a red mane spreading out behind it.

Before Rory knew what was happening hands were clutching at his throat, fingers pressing down on his neck, choking him. He struggled against his attacker, but his arms were firmly pinned under slim legs.

"Please!" He coughed and wheezed through his blocked windpipe. His vision was covered in stars, and the almost pitch darkness was becoming darker. The masked face stared down at him, emotionless. His struggling weakened, and he went limp, eyes closing shut beneath his rebreather mask.

* * *

><p>Rory groggily came too. His neck hurt and he had a pounding headache. He instinctively reached for the canteen in his satchel, but found that he couldn't move his hands. He opened his eyes and stared up at the cloudy grey sky. A single rain drop landed on the exposed skin of his forehead between his mask and his beret.<p>

The sentinel pilot slowly turned his head back and forth. He was back in the trench, in the area surrounded by dugouts. It took him a second to notice, but the white armoured figure was nearby, standing on a fire-step and looking out over the wastes, red mane blowing in the stiff breeze.

He could tell that it was a girl. She had a slim figure and held her head high. He could also tell that it was xenos, part of the species that they had been fighting. Eldar. He turned his head to the side and cursed, muttering a prayer to the Emperor.

The creature turned around, regarding the soldier lying on the wooden planks. Its mask was expressionless, but it cocked its head inquisitively, as if trying to pick up what the soldier was saying. It dropped down from the fire step, landing lightly and began walking towards the tied up guardsman.

Rory found that his legs hadn't been tied, and began pushing himself away from the alien, desperately trying to scramble for safety. He got to the edge of the pit and pushed himself up as best as he could. It got closer and looked down at him. His chest heaved up and down in terror, and he pressed his head as far back against the dirt wall as he could.

It reached down a hand and unceremoniously grabbed him by the collar. Rory squirmed in its grasp, but was lifted to his feet. He thought about running, until he saw the strange pistol she carried. He had seen first hand what the Eldar weapons could do, tearing men apart with vicious efficiency.

The xenos placed a hand on his back and gave him a soft but forceful push towards the communication trench. Rory noticed that he still had his satchel, so presumably the pipe, but his las pistol was not in its holster. The xenos picked up two of the jerry cans, which he wasn't sure what to make of, and indicated for him to start walking.

It was difficult to navigate the trench without the balance of his hands. Twice he tripped, falling flat on his stomach. His green and ochre camouflage uniform, which had been quite clean aside from sweat and a bit of mud on the pants, was now filthy and his ribs hurt from the falls. Each time he went down, the xenos girl wearily dragged him back to his feet. Each time he would curse at her, muttering prayers to the Emperor in forgiveness. He wished he could spit at her, but the rebreather mask rendered that impossible.

Rory was terrified of what was to come. Why was she keeping him alive, and why was she carrying the jerry cans? Was she planning on practising some terrifying alien ritual on him, involving burning promethium? Maybe this was some kind of twisted game the Eldar played with their captives. Rory had heard stories of the alien species cruel and sadistic ways.

Soon they came to the end of the trench, where Rory had first entered. He thought wistfully back to the half hour ago. He had felt so trapped and alone then, but that all seemed blissful compared to his current situation.

They began walking across the muddy ground, the sentinel was visible off in the distance. It was just starting to rain, and large acrid drops were landing around them. Rory felt anger rise, what did this xenos want with him? Why couldn't she have just killed him already?

A plan began to formulate in his mind as they began the twenty minute walk across the mud. If he couldn't escape, he could at the very least die trying. As they passed by a particularly large crater Rory looked down. Sure enough, amongst the water and debris at the bottom of the deep crater were a couple of Imperial bodies, and more importantly their las guns.

After a few more steps Rory feigned misplacing his foot, and dropped sideways. He tumbled downwards, rolling over rocks and sliding through mud. The crater was larger than it had looked, with a radius of at least ten metres. Finally he came to rest at the bottom, his lower half in the filthy stagnant water. He lay motionless on his back, bruised and bloodied from the fall. But he had succeeded, at least the first stage of his plan. The bayonet of a las gun pressed painfully into his back, and he began sawing slowly and carefully at the ropes around his wrists.

Without moving his head he looked up. Silhouetted at the top of the crater stood the Eldar warrior. The red hair danced in the wind as she began to wearily descend, carefully placing one foot after another.

He felt the ropes snap, and he curled his hands around the las gun, tensing his body in preparation. As soon as the xenos looked down he sprang into action, rolling onto his belly and levelling the rifle. The alien moved impossibly fast, and even though Rory had gotten the drop, she had her pistol trained on the prone soldier almost instantly.

They stared each other down, neither showing emotion through their masks. But where the aliens pistol was steady and calm, Rory's gun shook with fear.

"Please!" He pleaded. "Just let me go. If you shoot we both die." He fought to keep disgust out of his voice. Disgust at the alien, and disgust at himself. He was communicating with the xenos, something that he had been raised to never, ever do.

Again, she cocked her head inquisitively. But she didn't move and the gun stayed trained on him. She motioned for him to stand, and Rory slowly and shakily got to his feet. The fall had hurt badly, and his legs felt like they couldn't support him.

They faced off, both standing now. The alien began moving down the slope, keeping her eyes locked on the wavering soldier. Ryan followed her movement with his eyes and the shaking barrel of the las rifle. He tried to decide if he fired the gun whether she would get a chance to shoot back.

His decision was made easy. As the warrior lowered her weight onto a rock, it gave out. With a mechanical sounding cry of, what Rory realised was fear, she tumbled. Before he knew what he was doing he squeezed the trigger. The las shots tracked the alien, vaporizing mud and rocks but failing to land on target.

Before she had even rolled over once she was twisting in mid air. A somersault led into a lunge, and before Rory knew what was happening the white armoured xenos was flying through the air towards him. He tried to bring the las rifle to bare but she moved impossibly fast.

He felt the air knocked out of his lungs as she barrelled into him. He coughed and groaned in pain as she landed on top of him. His body tried to howl in frustration but all that came out was a muffled wheeze. But he wasn't going to give in this easily.

Rory brought his knees up, colliding them with the aliens back. She lurched forwards and he spun onto his stomach, sliding his knees up under body. She was obviously surprised that her initial attack hadn't knocked her opponent out, as he managed to wrap his arms around her knees, pinning her to his back with his biceps. Before she could respond Rory threw all of his weight backwards, roaring in anger and desperation as he did so.

He lifted his legs up, making sure that all of his weight was directed downwards onto her torso. He heard her cry out in pain as they landed just above the pool of water at the bottom of the crater. Rory knew that the alien was much faster than he was, but he was fairly certain that he could out muscle her, and his only chance was now while she had the wind knocked out.

He rolled the dazed alien onto her stomach and sat on her back, wrapping his arms around her neck in a choke hold. The pain was slowing him down, but he began to tighten his grip. Almost subconsciously, he began chanting the Emperor's litany.

The xenos girl began fighting back, scrambling desperately with her small hands at his forearms, trying to pry them off with no success. Rory grimaced as he pulled as hard as he could on the xenos's unarmoured neck. There was another cry of pain, and through his rage he could hear her saying something in her language, pleading.

It was then that he felt the hands on his head. He had been so focussed on the choke that he hadn't notice her reach around and grab the back of his hands. It was too late, and with a sharp motion she slammed his head into the back of her helmet.

Rory let out a howl of pain as his unarmoured forehead, right above his rebreather mask, slammed into the strange, tough material that made the aliens armour. She slipped out from beneath him, and Rory scrambled to his feet.

The two faced off, silence filling the air. Rory noticed the sounds of distant battle for the first time in a while, but didn't care. Raindrops were falling around them. All he cared about was his fight, his desperate need to win. The alien rubbed her throat. He couldn't imagine she was feeling great after that choke, Rory thought with a humourless grin.

"C'mon xenos. Let's have a go at it." Rory said, raising his fists. It was at that moment that Rory realised that the aliens sword was well within her reach, probably just over a metre away, but she was making no effort to go for it. Why wasn't she just killing him?

He didn't ponder on it too long. With a roar he sprinted at the xenos. He brought his fist forwards towards her centre of mass, but she easily parried. His other fist came around in a sucker punch, but again she danced lightly out of the way. Her leg came around and impacted with the back of his knees, a split second before her fist landed on his stomach.

It was as if she danced, keeping at a distance, while still landing hard punches. A fist connected with his cheek, then a leg with his back. Rory stumbled backwards, pain coursing through his body. She came upon him again, fists and feet landing on soft, unprotected spots, always getting past his blocking hands. If he hadn't been so desperate for survival, he would have simply collapsed and admitted defeat.

An especially heavy punch landed on his temple, and Rory dropped like a stone. His vision went black and a high pitched noise filled his ears. He opened his eyes and he was on his front, the alien girl sitting on his back. She was tying his hands together. Rory desperately wanted to fight back, to escape capture, but he couldn't move, his entire body was in agony. All he could muster was a whimper.

The alien rolled him onto his back, and Rory moaned with pain and anger. She sat down facing him, her legs crossed. The sun was beginning to set behind the dark rain clouds, and in a state of complete exhaustion Rory passed out, dark dreams haunting his sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Rory woke up with a splitting headache. He was freezing cold and wet, his clothes felt stiff and all of his joints and muscles felt like they were on fire. He let out a low moan. He wasn't sure how long he had been out for but he didn't feel even remotely rested.

His hands were still tied behind his back, and his arms were cramped and cold from lack of circulation. He pushed himself up and looked around. The sun was rising above the horizon, casting its dim light across the muddy wasteland. He wasn't in the crater any more, which he assumed was a bad thing.

A quick look around told him that he lay only a few metres away from his Sentinel. Unfortunately the xenos was also there, running her hand across one of the hydraulic joints. When she heard him move she turned her head. Walking over she crouched next to him. She hesitated for a second before placing a gloved hand on his shoulder. Rory flinched away but was in no position to fight back.

She slid a knife out of its sheath on her armour and Rory felt his chest start to rise and fall rapidly. He shook with anger but didn't try and move. The fight was over and he was going to die with what little honour he could muster.

But she didn't make any move to kill him. Keeping her hand on his shoulder she rolled him onto his side. She slid the knife in between his wrists and pulled upwards. It sliced through the thick ropes like they were butter.

Rory was in disbelief for a second. He slumped onto his back and looked at his hands. He sat up, rubbing his wrists to try and bring circulation back. The sentinel pilot looked up at the xenos woman.

"What do you want?" He asked, trying to keep his voice level. He still felt disgust and resentment at the alien creature, but some of this had been replaced by confusion. The alien pointed up at the sentinel, then at Rory's satchel.

"What?" He asked, not understanding. She crossed her arms across her chest and huffed, before pointing up at the engine compartment.

Suddenly it struck Rory. This alien wanted to fix the Sentinel. She had kept him alive because she had no idea how it worked. She was probably stuck here as well, and saw him as her lift out. He was almost certain of this, everything up to this point began sliding into place.

He began to think of ways he could use the situation to his advantage. He already knew that he couldn't beat her in a fair fight, and he couldn't get the drop on her because she was so quick and her senses were so excellent. The only way he could defeat the xenos scum would be to gain her trust. Which meant fixing the Sentinel.

Rory nodded before grabbing his satchel. The alien leaned against the leg of the war machine with her arms crossed, eyes always following the soldier. He rifled through the bag, searching for the corrugated tube. Sure enough it was still in the bag, if a little muddy. He also found his water and protein bars, which he decided were more important than the alien for now.

Considering how filthy he was, Rory had stopped caring about the mud a while ago. He sat down and started munching on the protein bar, legs stretched out in front of himself. He had to lift up his mask to take a bite, but the terrible standard issue food tasted so good he didn't mind. The xenos warrior said something to him in her language, but he couldn't pick up on what tone she was using. He motioned at her with the food.

"I can't work until I eat." She seemed to get the gist of what he was saying and leaned back.

After finishing his food Rory pulled back his mask to take a deep drink of water. His throat burned as it went down, and he had forgotten just how thirsty he was. The rebreather mask was uncomfortable and Rory wanted to take it off. But he wasn't sure what sort of pollutants or gasses there were in the air, and he didn't want to take a risk. One slip up could potentially prove fatal.

When he was done he pushed himself to his feet and grabbed the tools he would need to fix the engine. The Eldar stared at him while he gathered himself together.

He began climbing the Sentinel. Clambering around to the engine compartment had always been easy, but now that his entire body was in pain it was relatively difficult. He groaned as he got into a more comfortable position before opening up the engine hatch. All of the parts had cooled down by now, and he didn't have to worry about burning himself but he still worked slowly. He needed time to think,

It wasn't going to be easy to get the Eldar's trust. He had tried multiple times to kill her already after all. And that wouldn't be the only issue. It would be difficult to over come his own prejudices, and the fact that she had beaten him to a living pulp.

It wasn't difficult to replace the broken pipe. After fiddling with some bolts, and with a little shoving, the new coolant line was in place. After climbing back on top of the machine he motioned for the Eldar woman to pass him the jerry cans she had carried. He emptied them into his fuel tank, which had been running low, and dropped into the cab of the vehicle.

Rory muttered a quick prayer to the Omnissiah before flicking the ignition switch. There was a cough, then a growl and the machine burst to life. Rory whooped with joy and stuck his head out of the top hatch. Sure enough blackish blue smoke was puffing gently out of the exhaust stacks. He looked down at the xenos. She stared up at him and nodded, before clambering up the Sentinel, onto the roof.

Rory ducked back into his machine before checking his compass and vision blocks. He took a hold of the joystick before putting the machine into gear and taking off west. He knew where the Imperial lines had been, and that was his best bet.

Just as he got moving he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked up at the Eldar, who was looking down into the cab with her index finger pointed towards the north. Rory sighed and nodded. He wasn't getting out that easy.

The Sentinel easily traversed the muddy ground, leaving large foot prints as it lurched forwards. Out of habit Rory traversed the auto cannon back and forth, always searching for targets. He had considered turning the massive weapon on his Eldar captor just after he had fixed the war machine, but had quickly realised that she would be on him before he could bring the cumbersome weapon to bare.

Despite the vehicles excellent cross country ability, it wasn't much faster than a human run. The day wore on, and Rory kept his eye on the odometer and gas dial. They were doing alright, but tracking through the mud was burning through the gas. They had started the day on a full tank, and by midday, when they stopped for lunch, they were just over three quarters full.

When they stopped for lunch the sun was shining through the smog and smoke, leaving a hazy half light across the land. The sound of battle was getting more distant, and Rory noticed that the Eldar warrior was checking around more often, as if unsure of the direction they were taking. Rory also noted that she hadn't eaten a morsel of food or drank a drop of water since he had been with her.

"You getting hungry up there?" He called up, making sure his voice could be heard over the roar of the engine and the hissing of pistons. The Eldar turned her helmet down to look at him, but didn't reply. "Or not." Rory grumbled to himself.

The Sentinel pilot reflected on his mission as his machine stomped across the barren, lifeless ground. It had been a pretty routine job, move ahead of the armoured company, search for enemy positions and disrupt enemy operations where possible.

There were three sentinels in Rory's platoon. The commander, who operated the long range vox, the reconnaissance walker, which was lightly armed and carried the platoons radar and surveying equipment and Rory's weapon sentinel, which mounted an auto cannon.

They had been advancing past an abandoned trench line when they had started taking sniper fire. This wouldn't have been a serious issue, if it weren't for the fact that the reconnaissance vehicle didn't have a closed cab, and Geordie, the driver, was exposed to fire. Rory had been ordered to advance and pin down the sniper while the other two walkers pulled back.

Rory didn't have any real experience with war. He had driven a loading sentinel, used for shifting cargo at the space port back home, and was fairly adept at controlling the mechanized walkers. But he had never seen battle. This was his first real taste of combat. And he had a blast. At least while it lasted.

They hadn't been positive of the Snipers location, but there was an elevated hill a little over a click away which happened to be in the same approximate direction they were taking fire from. So Rory had gone stomping off towards the hill, firing accurate blasts from the giro-stabalized auto cannon in the general direction of the sniper.

He remembered how the large calibre shells had seemed to float towards the hill, the tracers making lines in the evening air. The shells had impacted, and even from a thousand metres away he could see mud and debris being tossed into the air. As much as he would have liked to imagine that mixed amongst the dirt and dust was an unfortunate xenos sniper, he knew better. The sniper was probably at that exact moment safely relocating.

But the desired effect had been achieved, and the rest of his platoon had been able to pull back to safety. Rory had pressed the attack, stomping towards the enemy's position. This was his first mistake. It was at that moment that an enemy attacker aircraft, perhaps returning from a bombing run, had spotted him. Although it had failed to knock out the Sentinel, he had lost his vox to shrapnel.

His next mistake was moving. If he had stayed put, his platoon probably would have been able to regroup with him. Instead, Rory went wandering off across the wasteland, searching for his comrades, unaware of how dire the situation was.

There had been a counter attack, the battle lines had shifted and there he was stuck in the middle of nowhere, with an Eldar warrior guiding him back to enemy lines where he would probably be tortured and killed.

Yesterday had been a bad day. Everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. He looked out the vision block of the Sentinel. The mud stretched away into the haze, broken by the rise and fall of what had once been hills. Rory wondered what this had used to be. Forests or plains? Or maybe something like the mushroom glades like his home planet?

The sun was beginning to set, a harsh glare caused by the perpetual smog of propellant smoke made seeing more than a hundred metres difficult. With his localized auspex gone with the vox antenna, Rory was driving by sight, compass and the xenos's guidance.

Rory didn't like the light. It was eerie, and he kept expecting something to lurch out of the fog towards them. Since a young age he had the idea of evil waiting outside of Emperor's light drilled into him. The concept of dark forces, perpetually ready to swoop in and destroy or, worse, taint the unaware and unprepared.

This was part of the reason that he felt such fear and hatred for the creature leading him onwards, away from friendly lines. It had the form of a human woman, but fought like an animal, with such incredible reflexes. It looked human, but wasn't human.

It was as Rory was thinking this that the creature in question reached down and tapped him on the shoulder. She motioned for him to stop and she swayed as the Sentinel lurched to a halt.

Silence descended. It was foggier than it had been earlier, and even the sounds of the distant battle had been muffled completely by the dense smog. The Eldar stood up on the roof of the Sentinel, her head slowly scanning left and then right. She then pointed off into the gloom. The order was so direct and quick, Rory's immediate action was to obey. He reached for the gear shift but the alien woman stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

Rory couldn't believe that he had just taken an order from a xenos. His hands shook around the joystick with anger. Before he could act on his indignant rage, he spotted something through the vision blocks. A figure appeared out of the fog, then more. Mist swirled around them as they approached. They wore heavy, form obscuring cloaks and wore scarves tied tightly around their rebreather masks.

Rory had been told about bandits. They roamed the abandoned battlefields, scavenging for anything useful amongst the broken and forgotten machines of war. They had no problems killing anyone who got in their way. There were five of them and they stopped ten metres in front of the Imperial war machine. The one in the middle, presumably the leader stepped forward.

He was a giant of a man, a thick and dirty leather overcoat was pulled over bound cloths and a winter jacket. He carried a clean, imperial issue automatic shotgun, which stood out in stark contrast to the rest of him. Shells were fitted in bandoleers crossing his chest, and a black toque was pulled over his rebreather mask.

"Hail, Imperial. What are you doing so far from friendly lines?" The man had a deep croak of a voice. Rory flicked on his vox broadcasters.

"Trying to find my way back actually. Could you point me in the right direction?" He tried to make his voice sound light hearted and unthreatening. These men could help him.

"Well, we do." The leader said. His voice was made to sound mechanical through his rebreather. The group of bandits were stepping closer, slowly but threateningly. Rory looked up through his hatch, and sure enough the Eldar warrior had disappeared. The thought of making a break for it now crossed his mind, but for all he knew, she could be clinging on to the back of the Sentinel.

Rory tensed his hand over the joystick, engaging the belt feed on the auto cannon. There was a clattering as 30mm shells rattled into place. Rory traversed the sentinel, locking the cannon on the lead bandit.

"Step back, and we can talk this out." Rory said over the vox caster. The bandit shook his head.

"Maybe not." There was the screech of a rocket, and Rory only had a split second to curse his own stupidity. While he had been talking an anti tank rocket had been moving into position. There was a boom and everything went black.

* * *

><p>Rory opened his eyes, blinking. It was the second time today he had woken up from blacking out with a splitting headache. He brought his hand up to rub his forehead and felt blood, crusted across his brow and into his matted hair. This really wasn't his day.<p>

He felt pressure on his leg and groggily lifted his head. Clean white bandages were visible though a sizeable tear in his fatigues on his lower thigh. Lifting his head up a little further he took in his surroundings.

Dim twilight filtered through the firing slit of what seemed to be a pillbox. The orange glow illuminated the rolling expanse of mud, or what was visible between the concrete. Far off in the distance there was a break in the seemingly endless cloud cover, and distinct beams of light shone down from the waning sun.

The Eldar was in the corner, sitting cross-legged, watching him. The eyes of her stone-faced mask were locked on his, unmoving. The idea that she was the one who had patched him made him cringe. A wave of disgust rolled over him before he realised that she could have saved his life. He hadn't seen the wound yet, but there was every possibility that he could have bled out from a leg wound.

But why had she helped him? Her only purpose for him was for him to take her back to her own lines. But now the Sentinel was presumably destroyed, what good could he do for her. The only logical thing for her to do was kill him, not save him.

"Where's the Sentinel?" Rory asked. There was still a possibility it was still functional. The xenos pointed out the firing slit of the pillbox. Rory wearily pulled himself to his feet, using the wall for support. He limped over to the window, letting out a groan of dismay when he got there.

The sentinel stood at an awkward angle, one of the leg joints completely blown out. Black oil dripped from a broken line, forming a puddle next to one of the feet. Charcoal smoke poured from the engine, swirling away into the twilight with the breeze. Rory slumped against the wall and slid down into a sitting position, resting his head in his hands.

"Why did you save me?" He asked. The Eldar girl had followed him with her eyes, but didn't make a sound. The silence was oppressing.

She stared at him for a second longer before getting to her feet. Walking over to the wounded Imperial soldier, she held out a hand. Rory was confused for a second. Again he felt the familiar wave of nausea, but pushed it down. He reached out and grasped the hand. He could feel the alien struggle a little as she pulled the larger human to his feet.

They exited the pillbox and started off, heading east. Rory didn't know what the alien was thinking, considering they had started off the day heading north. But frankly he didn't care anymore. With the Sentinel gone, and absolutely no way of communicating, there was no chance he would survive crossing the wasteland on his own. He would have to stick with the xenos for now. He kept up as best as he could with his hurt leg as they took off through the darkening twilight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Finals will be done in two weeks, then I have a month off. Bear with me please guys!**

It was a dark night, lit only by the occasional flash of some monstrous explosion off in the distance, piercing through the smoke and fog. The alien seemed to have no trouble navigating the mud and debris, but Rory struggled, especially with his rebreather mask on. The xenos matched pace with him, walking just a little ways ahead. He tried to follow her path, as she never seemed to stumble or trip.

Despite this, Rory could sense the uncertainty in her stride. The way she hunched a little, walked a little slower. He was fairly sure that she didn't know where she was going. He wasn't sure whether to be concerned or happy with this. On one hand it meant that they weren't necessarily going to make it back to the Eldar lines. But on the other, it meant that they could just as easily be going away from Imperial.

A little after midnight they took a short rest, and Rory ate some more of his rations. He noticed the Eldar warrior eyeing up his food, but it could have easily been attributed to her making sure he wasn't going to try and pull something. It didn't matter much either way. Despite the fact that she had saved him from the bandits, it didn't give her any right to Imperial food. At the end of a day she was still the enemy.

The night passed by slowly and uneventfully. Rory's legs were sore from exertion and his wound when the sharp light of the planets deep orange sun began to show itself over the murky horizon. The imperial soldier noticed that the breath that escaped the rebreather fogged in the early morning air.

A half hour later and the pair of lost soldiers came to the edge of a steep drop off. Rory looked across the massive kilometre wide hole in the earth. The bottom of the huge crater was obscured in pitch darkness. Rory let out a low whistle from between his teeth.

"It's from a titan's cannon." He murmured to himself. The xenos girl turned her head to look at him but didn't say a word. The crater was of unbelievable scale, and Rory knew it must have been a stray shot from a titanic Imperator Titan.

The Eldar warrior moved her head back and forth once more, scanning for an obvious route across. None presented itself, and she took off again, beginning the long circumnavigation. Rory stood in awe for a second longer before following at a trot.

The crater dropped steeply away to their right; mud, rocks and debris forming the steep sixty degree slope. Rory walked close to the edge, taking in the sight. The bottom was dark, making the pit look like a bottomless abyss.

There was a crumbling sound and Rory's mind processed that the earth below him was giving out, too late. He let out a cry of terror as he felt himself dropping, sliding downwards with the weak mud. His arms reached upwards, hands clawing for the edge.

Just when he thought it was too late a small, black hand clamped onto his forearm. The xenos's helmet appeared, peeking over the edge. Rory was panting with terror, feet scrambling to find purchase on the slippery slope. He could feel the hand gripping onto his forearm shaking with exertion.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, but was in reality probably only a few seconds the toe of his boot caught on a particularly large and well embedded rock. His free hand dug into the loose earth as he pushed upwards with all his might.

He flopped over the edge of the crater, landing on top of the alien girl. Her chest was heaving up and down and she let out a disgruntled whine. He rolled off onto his back, staring up at the sky. The girl lay next to him, both of them temporarily exhausted.

A minute later and she pushed herself to her feet, dusting off her white armour. She reached down a hand and helped the Imperial soldier to his feet. The Eldar said something, and he guessed by her joking tone that it was some kind of insult at his stupidity. Rory wasn't too offended by it, he probably deserved it.

They started walking again, Rory now staying a little further away from the edge. It was a couple minutes later when the gravity of what had just happened struck him. The xenos had just risked her life to save him. With absolutely no personal gain, she had ignored the very likely possibility that she would have gone over the edge as well. And Rory could have easily held on to her, put his weight backwards and brought the alien screaming downwards with him, to both of their inevitable deaths.

If it had been a couple days before, that would have been exactly what Rory would have done. To give his life to kill the xenos was a holy way to die, better than most. And he would have taken his place by the Emperor's side having done his duty.

But something had changed in him. He hadn't realised it, and he didn't want to accept it but he was starting to trust the xenos. When he had laid down on top of her it would have been the perfect opportunity to strangle her. She was exhausted, and he could have rolled her on to her back and chocked her out.

But she had saved his life twice now. She didn't have to have bandaged his wound, and she sure as hell didn't have to pull him back over the edge. For the first time in his life, the idea that an alien wasn't a creature of pure evil crossed his mind. He smiled to himself and jogged to catch up with the Eldar girl.

"Why did you do that?" He knew she wouldn't understand him but he just felt like talking. The alien turned her head momentarily, eyeing him up from her expressionless mask.

"What's your name, by the way? Mines Rory." He reached out his hand to shake hers. It felt strange.

She jumped back, almost to the edge of the crater, hand shooting for her sword. She scrambled away from the edge, some chunks of earth dropping away into the abyss. Getting a hold of her jumpiness, she pushed her sword back into the sheath. Rory had stopped walking, still holding out his hand. The xenos crossed her arms across her chest, obviously confused.

"My name's Rory, what's yours?" He repeated his earlier question. He realised that it wouldn't work, and tried a different tactic. He pointed his finger towards his chest.

"Rory." He then pointed at the Eldar. "What's your name." The xenos nodded slowly.

"Illya." It was the first words he had heard the Eldar warrior speak. Her voice sounded strange, sing-songy but at the same time almost mechanical. He reached out his hand again and she hesitantly took it.

"Nice to meet you." He turned and started walking again. The Eldar stood confused for a second before following. Rory chuckled to himself. He had always assumed that the xenos was always plotting, trying to figure out some way of manipulating him to her dark and twisted ways. But maybe she was just as confused as he was.

It was another hour before they finally had circumnavigated the massive crater, and began heading off away from it. Around midday they stopped to eat. The night had been cold and chilly, but the day had grown warm and humid as the sun rose in the sky.

They sat down by a charred chimera, the hatches blown open from the force of an internal explosion. It had long since burnt out whatever ammunition was stored in side of it, and it sat silent in the mud, blackened by the fires that had destroyed it.

Rory fished his food out of his pack. He was running low on supplies, and barely had any water left in his canteen. He began eating before noticing that the Eldar guardian was sitting cross legged, looking out across the war zone. He nudged her with his elbow, offering half of his protein bar.

"You hungry?" Rory asked, leaning over to offer the piece of food. The xenos shook her head, putting up a hand. The imperial nodded and lifted up his mask to eat the food.

A little while later and they were on the move again. Rory was starting to feel the hopelessness of the situation weighing down on his conscience. He was starting to come to terms with the bleakness of their surroundings, and the chances of survival. Rory looked over at the xenos warrior. She still walked upright and proud as she always had. But her head was a little lower, and her shoulders were a little more hunched. Her armour, which had once been a crisp white, was now spattered with mud and grime.

The day wore on, with little happening. Occasionally the sound of battle, the thump of artillery or the pop of far off small arms, could be heard. But it was too distant, and the air too hazy, for any sense of direction to be given to the noise.

As the day darkened, and afternoon turned to evening, they slowed their pace. By the time the sun had completely sunk below the horizon, the pair had found an abandoned artillery park to sleep in.

After laying out his bedroll in a gun pit Rory lay down, looking up at the dark clouds above moving by through the camo-netting swaying in the light breeze. Illya rested a little ways away, leaning up against some sandbags. Rory's muscles were exhausted, and his leg hurt, but for some reason he felt a little better than he had waking up that morning. He wasn't too sure precisely what had changed, but he felt a bit more comfortable around the xenos. Perhaps it was because she had saved his life, or perhaps it was because he no longer felt any real hatred for her. Either way, he was able to fall quickly into a deep sleep.

* * *

><p>Rory woke up, feeling for the first time in a long time relatively well rested. He lifted himself onto one elbow and itched under the rubber lining of his rebreather mask. It had been on for days now and he desperately wanted to take it off, but he wasn't sure what gasses were in the air and it wasn't worth risking it.<p>

After reaching his gloved fingers under his mask and wiping the sleep out of his eyes Rory took in his surroundings. The early morning light was peeping through the camo netting into the gun pit, casting shadows across the dirt floor. The Eldar warrior lay on the ground, her knees pulled up to her chest and one arm under her head.

Rory wondered what was under the armour. Would it be some freakish monster with purple skin and five eyes? He doubted it. She looked too peaceful and unthreatening. He sat for a few minutes looking at the alien, thinking of the days past and the days to come.

Leaning over Rory grabbed his canteen from his back pack and tipped it back. A few stale mouthfuls of water went down before it drained empty. If they didn't find water by the end of the day he was in trouble.

Illya flinched at the sound of the bag opening, and when Rory looked over she was sitting up, stretching her thin arms up above her head. She nodded to the Imperial before slowly getting to he feet. Evidently she didn't have as good of a sleep as he did.

After packing up his sleeping gear the pair set off, continuing north. The rest of the day passed by uneventfully. Not once did they hear the sound of combat, which concerned Rory. He didn't know about the rest of planet, and although leaving the combat area meant leaving danger behind, it also meant leaving friendlies.

As the day passed Rory noticed the landscape beginning to change. The mud began to become firmer and easier to walk on. Wrecks and debris became fewer and farther between and the occasional tuft of bluish, alien looking grass began to appear. The air became clearer and less smoggy and the occasional glimpse of sky became visible, before quickly disappearing behind the moving clouds of yellow haze.

By evening they were walking on solid ground, and some sort of landmass was visible off in the distance. He wondered if it was perhaps some kind of forest. As the sky darkened Rory was able to pick out, difficult as it was, small pinpricks of light above. He was almost able to see the stars.

They walked for a few hours into the night, Illya seeming determined on continuing on their path. Rory's wounded leg was killing him, but he didn't want to seem week in front of the xenos. But as midnight drew near, he was forced to concede to the pain. Drawing closer to the alien he stretched out his hand to tap her shoulder.

She spun around faster than Rory's human eyes could discern, and before he knew what was happening a power blade was pressed to his throat. Rory's eyes went wide with fear beneath his mask, and he slowly raised his hands to show he didn't have a weapon. Illya didn't move in response so he cautiously brought a hand down to point at his bandaged leg.

"Illya..." The Eldar flinched at the sound of her name but kept her sword up. "My leg hurts. I can't keep going." He lifted up the hole in his pants to show the bandage, which was crusted with dried blood.

The Eldar warrior let out a sound of dismay, and quickly sheathed her sword. Rory dropped down into a sitting position, stretching his sore leg out in front of himself. She squatted down in front of the wounded Imperial soldier, reaching out for his wounded leg. He pulled away but she persisted. Rory put his hand on her wrist to stop her. Illya huffed and sat back on her haunches, looking down at him.

Reluctantly he untucked his fatigues from his boot and rolled up the pant leg to above the thigh. Reaching into a small pouch on her waist Illya pulled out a roll of bandage. She began peeling back the edges of the old bandage on his leg, and Rory hissed with pain as the scab was pulled from the wound.

Looking down Rory saw that the area around the wound was a little red from infection but didn't look bad considering the exertion it had taken over the past day. He wondered if it had something to do with the Eldar bandages.

Illya removed her gauntlets and Rory stared at her light skin. It looked human in colour, if a little pale. There were no horrible claws sprouting forth from the normal looking fingers. She reached out, wrapping the bandage around Rory's shaking leg. He flinched when her skin made contact with his leg and she looked up quickly to make sure he was alright before turning back to the wound.

Almost immediately the afflicted area began to feel better, and the Imperial soldier assumed it there was some sort of alien antiseptic in the bandages. He nodded his thanks to the xenos before pulling the leg of his pants back down and tucking the end back into his boot.

The pair relaxed and Rory got out his second last protein bar. Again he offered half to the xenos and again she declined. After finishing the rations he pulled out his standard issue sleeping mat and bag. When he had finished laying them out he looked over at Illya. He could see in the darkness that she was already curled up, facing away from him. He took pity.

"If you want you can have my sleeping mat. I'll be fine with just the bag." Rory said, more to get her attention than explain himself. She looked over her shoulder and he pushed the sleeping mat towards her. She stared at him for a moment before rolling onto the mat.

"Mae'n y lleiaf ou allai wneud Rory" It was the second thing he had heard her say. Her tone sounded mocking but grateful. His name sounded odd from her mouth, but he thought it was funny and couldn't help but smile. He assumed she had just given him a thank you.

"Hey, it's the least I could do. That's the second time you saved me today." He said before sliding into the sleeping bag. He fell asleep quickly, looking up at the clouds.


	4. Chapter 4

_The wind howled across the heaving ocean, white caps forming on the crests of the large swells. Rory brought an arm up to cover his face as a particularly large wave crashed against the sea wall, salty foam and spray flying into the air with a resounding crash. Steam hissed off the sentinel's exposed radiator as it stomped along the ancient breakwater, rain soaking the unfortunate pilot in his exposed cabin._

_ Rory cursed his luck. He had popped off to get lunch with his brother, and by the time he had started making his way back to the space port where he worked the storm had begun to set in. Five minutes later and he was making his way through a full on tempest._

_ It wasn't like he wasn't used to the extreme weather. He had grown up on Lerwington, where storms brewed up quickly and with ferocity. It was a planet mainly dedicated to mining, but a good portion of its surface was covered in deep oceans. The city Rory lived in, New Plymouth, was right on the North Sea. It also housed the planets largest spaceport, where Rory worked loading and unloading cargo from the coming and going transporters._

_ Another wave crashed against the seawall, spraying Rory and his sentinel. He spat seawater from his mouth, wiping it as best as he could off his goggles. He felt cold, and could feel himself shivering beneath his standard issue blue coveralls. The clouds overhead were dark, and thunder cracked ominously deep within the rolling masses far above._

_ Suddenly the Sentinel began to shake. Rory cursed and fought with the controls. He was almost to safety, but the old machine was rattling and sputtering, as if it had a mind of its own._

_ "C'mon old girl, we're almost there," He hissed to his walker. But it was no good, and the sentinel ground to a stop._

_ "Rory!" A voice called to him. He ignored it, flicking the activation stick in the ignition._

_ "Rory, deffro!" He looked up. He couldn't tell where the voice was coming from. It wasn't human, but he recognized it from somewhere. His eyes drifted off to his right. A wave was sweeping towards him. It towered above all the others and was growing. Soon it blocked out all his vision. Rory let out a cry of terror as it came crashing downwards._

Rory's eyes snapped open. He shot into a sitting position, chest heaving in a panic. Realizing it was all a dream he slumped back down, letting out a sigh of relief. He hadn't dreamt of home since leaving, and the dream had felt so real. He shivered, the cold damp feeling still lingering.

Illya was sitting with her knees tucked beneath her, a black gloved hand on Rory's shoulder. He pushed the hand away and sat up. Uncapping his canteen he lifted up his mask tilting his head back. Nothing came out except for stale air, and he swore. His throat was parched and he could feel a headache coming on.

The Eldar warrior's eyes followed his movements. Her hands rested on her thighs as she waited for the human to prepare himself. Rory groggily rolled onto his knees, rolling up his sleeping roll and packing what little gear he had gotten out the evening before.

"We need to find water soon." He said, more to himself than to his companion. The day before he had felt a strange sense of friendliness towards the alien. It wasn't entirely gone today, but he felt a lot grumpier. He realized that was probably due to lack of sleep. The wound on his leg felt stiff and sore, but a lot better than it had the day before. He got to his feet, trying to put some weight on it.

The alien watched and waited. When Rory reached down for his pack she rose to her feet, checking over her weapons. They started off, moving towards the landmass that had just been visible at the end of the previous day.

A stiff breeze swept across the desolate landscape, making the tufts of grass that clung for life to the firm but barren ground dance and wave. As the day progressed, Rory's thirst got worse and worse.

The shape off in the distance, which it soon became clear was some sort of strangely coloured forest, became less and less focused through the goggles of his rebreather mask. His throat felt cracked and what little saliva was in his mouth felt like glue. His leg, which had started the day feeling better, grew worse and worse, until it became difficult to walk at anything faster than a hobble. The Eldar slowed her pace, and continued to check over her shoulder at the Imperial soldier, but didn't move to help. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking beneath the expressionless war mask.

The pain soon became unbearable. With a grunt Rory collapsed. He barely noticed the Eldar running to his side and crouching down, rolling him onto his back. She tugged at his arm, trying to get the young sentinel pilot to his feet.

"Water…" Rory croaked, before everything went black.

_Rory was running his sentinel through the spaceport. Almost everything was as it should be. Rain fell on the massive stained glass roof high above. Sensors burned above weathered statues of Archmagos's set in alcoves in the wall. Gargoyles looked down wide ramps towards the gangways that led out to the huge docking platforms._

_But strangely enough, there was nobody around. Pallets stood half unloaded, steam drifted up from ventilation shafts and tools lay scattered about an elevator under repair. It was as if everyone had suddenly disappeared._

_The Sentinel was moving at full throttle, pistons hissing and feet clattering against the rockcrete floor. Rory realized all of a sudden just how thirsty he was. He needed water, and fast. He didn't know why, but he knew that if he could make it all the way down to the docks, he would find water there._

_The transmission squeaked from the exertion as the walker stomped at full speed through the empty spaceport. Looking up at the hard rain pattering against the windows high above only made the situation worse._

_A recruitment poster on the wall glared at Rory out of the corner of his eye. He looked over at a saint, holding up an Aquila on the poster._

"_You need to get back out there Rory." The saint said to him. Rory ignored it. He just needed to find water. He passed another poster, a guardsman firing his lasrifle at an unseen enemy, the words 'You can make a difference' emblazoned on it. The guardsman turned to look at Rory as he flew past, his stylized head tracking the Sentinel Pilot._

"_Rory, you need to wake up and get back out there." The voice was deep and almost human, but not quite._

"_I get it, I get it. I just need to find some water." Rory muttered to himself._

_ He was almost to the docks now. He could see the huge archway leading to the main loading bay. The thirst was overpowering, taking control of his every thought. He needed water, more than he had ever needed anything before in his life._

_ There was a cracking sound, and Rory let out a roar of frustration as the floor gave way beneath his feet. The legs of the Sentinel continued to move as he dropped downwards, away from the star port and into a bottomless abyss._

"Rory!" Rory's eyes snapped open at the sound of Illya's voice. He was staring directly into a pool of water, a few inches deep but dropping away sharply. Without even thinking he let his head fall into the water, sucking water into his parched mouth. He didn't care about the sounds he was making, didn't care about the fact he wasn't wearing his rebreather. All he cared about was consuming as much water as quickly as possible.

When he had guzzled down enough to make himself feel sick, Rory sat up. The water had been cool and refreshing, and looking up he saw that it was a pond, about fifteen meters in diameter. The pool was a deep aquamarine blue, and he could see strange green eel like fish swimming in the deeper parts. Dark purple lily pads floated on the surface, contrasting the light blue water.

Looking up Rory took in his surroundings. They were in the forest, or at least what he had thought was a forest. There were no trees. Instead, huge mushrooms surrounded them; the trunks were over a meter wide, and rising well over ten meters into the air. The stalks were a pale white, and as far as he could tell from the ones that tilted at an angle, the flat tops were a deep violet.

Dim light filtered down from between the behemoth mushrooms, and lit up the forest floor, which was made up of strange green and red ferns. Some sort of animal was making a ticking noise off in the distance, and the sound echoed through the alien glades.

Rory realized that Illya must have dragged him here after he had passed out. It had been a risk, and there could have not been any water at all. Any resentment he had felt earlier in the morning melted away. He turned around to thank her, only to jump back in surprise.

She sat on the stem of a fallen mushroom, her head in her hands and her elbows on her knees. What surprised Rory so much was not her position, but her lack of helmet. Long brown hair cascaded over her white armored shoulders and a little ways down her back. She had sharp, angular features and a thin face. Her eyes were a deep blue, and they stared into Rory's. She was wearing a ghost of a smile on her lips. The tips of her pointed ears poked out from beneath her hair.

As far as Rory could tell, she was the most gorgeous girl he had ever seen. He crouched there for a second, awestruck. He had realized there was a chance that the xenos girl could look human, but he hadn't expected this.

"So I guess we don't need the rebreathers in here?" He asked, breaking the silence. The alien cocked her head, maintaining the almost smile. Rory looked around before picking up his rebreather mask, which lay discarded a few feet away. He held it up. "We don't need these?" He asked again, pointing to it.

Illya nodded. "Na, mae'r aer yn lân i mewn yma." Silence descended, before Rory caught himself staring again. He turned to his kit, looking away from the alien warrior.

The sentinel pilot grabbed his canteen and filled it up, drinking some more water before filling it again. He offered it to Illya and she hopped down off the fallen mushroom, reaching out and taking it from him. He shivered as her finger tips grazed his hand. Rory realized with a hint of amusement that there had only been a very short period of time where he was even close to being comfortable with the Eldar making physical contact with him.

"How did you get me all the way here?" He asked. Despite her speed and dexterity, she was a little bit shorter than him, and of very slim build. Rory was only eighteen, but carrying a full-grown human male for anything more than a kilometer was difficult even for a soldier.

The alien threw him a look of confusion before handing back the canteen. Rory refilled it again and put it in his pack. He realized how filthy he was and decided it was as good a time as any to clean him self off. The last few days of trekking through the mud had left him completely coated in a mixture of thick grime and sweat. He felt almost embarrassed standing next to the xenos who, although her armor was far from the white it had once been, had managed to keep her head clean.

He pulled off his webbing and beret, tossing them in a pile. His jacket and fatigue pants followed suit, and then his standard issue boots. Soon he was standing in only his boxers and undershirt. He looked over at Illya with a sense of discomfort. She was standing back a little, watching him. Not that he really minded her seeing him in his boxers.

He got a hold of his emotions. He hadn't had any sort of sexual release in over a week, and it was difficult to keep his feelings in check. _It doesn't matter how she looks_ he told himself. _At the end of the day, she is still an alien, and worse still the enemy._ He glanced over at her. _Even if she has saved my life four times._

He picked up his clothes and fished a bar of soap out of his pack before wading into the water. It was freezing, but he was used to swimming in the sea back home, where even in the summer years it could get a lot colder. Using the soap he first washed his clothes, carefully cleaning each peace one at a time. When he was done he got out of the water and laid the wet fatigues on the mossy banks of the pond. Illya sat cross legged by the water a little ways around the pond towards the deeper end, staring at the strange fish down below.

Rory got back into the water, wearing only his boxers. He washed himself down, working hard at scrubbing the grit out of his skin and hair with the course soap. When he was done he looked over at Illya. She still sat on the edge.

"Don't you want to clean off?" Rory called out to her. She looked up, raising an eyebrow. He pointed at her, and then at the water. Then he made an action of scrubbing his arm. "Clean off?"

Illya looked apprehensive, and hesitated for a second before getting to her feet and making her way back around the edge of the pond to where Rory had spread out all of his gear. She sat down by the waters edge and began removing her amour, piece by piece.

Rory dove back into the water, retreating deeper and deeper into the pond. He sunk his head down so that only his eyes were above the water. When she was done removing her armor plates she wore only what looked like a thin black jumpsuit. She looked over at Rory, and he blew air through his nose, making bubbles come up in front of his face. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand and giggled. Her laugh, like her voice, sounded musical.

Turning away from Rory, she unfastened the jumpsuit with hidden clasps and let it slide off. Beneath she wore a bra and underwear. She wasn't exactly curvy, but didn't look scrawny either. Her breasts weren't huge and she had a thin waist. Her legs were slim, and Rory felt a strange sense of guilt wash over him as he watched her walk into the water, carrying her armor in her hands. She was far from bulky, but what muscles were visible shifted and tensed as they got used to the cold.

She started off by cleaning each individual plate, kneeling in the shallows. She scrubbed each piece meticulously, making sure to get the dirt out of every little crevice. Rory watched her work, the ends of her brown hair spilling into the water and her eyes fixed on the armor with a look of pure concentration. After each piece was clean she would lay it out in an orderly fashion on the banks of the pond, next to Rory's fatigues.

When she was done she dropped her head under the water, resurfacing and pushing her wet hair off of her face. Rory, feeling mischievous, dove under the surface, kicking his legs and powering himself forward on strong arms. Rory had grown up by the ocean, and was an excellent swimmer having spent his childhood down below the breakwater with his friends when the weather was calm.

Illya realized what was happening to late, as Rory wrapped his arms around her thighs and threw the unfortunate Eldar over his shoulder. She let out a screech of terror, and Rory laughed, letting her know that he had no intention of harming her.

It was in that instant that the thought crossed his mind. He could kill her. She obviously wasn't used to the water, and he could hold his breath and drop down. He could drown her and be done with it. He wouldn't get another opportunity like this.

But Rory knew that he couldn't do it. She had saved him four times. They were starting to rely on each other. She trusted him. And as if that wasn't enough, she wasn't some horrible looking monster. She was just a normal girl.

And so, instead of submerging and drowning the unsuspecting Illya, Rory grabbed her thighs with his hands and catapulted her forwards. She hit with water with a loud smack and a high-pitched cry of anger and amusement. Illya disappeared under the water for a moment before resurfacing, blowing water out of her mouth and with a lily pad on her head.

She cried out again, but this time Rory realized there was no amusement in her voice. Her arms franticly splashed at the water around her, and her head bobbed just above the surface. With a start, Rory realized that she didn't know how to swim. They were only ten meters from the edge, but the water was well above her head.

Rory jumped forward in a front crawl. He had only tossed her a couple meters, and he made it to her frantically thrashing form in a moment. Grabbing the panicking alien by her waist, Rory half pushed, half carried her far enough back into the shallows to safety. She clung onto his shoulders until he gently placed her down.

As soon as she could stand on her feet Illya pushed off the human and stood facing him. She threw a half hearted punch at his abs.

"Sgriw chi'n pidyn, gallech fod wedi lladd fi!" She stared up at him, her expression twisted with anger. He stared back, trying to keep his face neutral. After a second, the corner of her mouth started twitching upwards, and moments later they were both lying back in the shadows, howling with laughter.

Their laughter subsided to chuckles, and then went away. They both lay in the shallow water next to each other, staring up at the huge mushroom tops above them. Rory reflected on the odd situation he was in. In a matter of days his entire outlook on life, the bleak miserable hopelessness drilled into him by the Imperium, had started to crumble. He felt happier than he had in months.

Illya was playing with a strand of long grass, trying to weave it into her wet hair, with little success. She looked over and caught Rory staring. He quickly looked down. First he had seen her as the enemy. Then he had seen her as an ally. Now… he didn't know what he saw her as.

"We need to get going soon." He said looking over at Eldar girl. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable about their lack of clothes. Their eyes met, and she cocked her head a little, smiling. Rory flashed a crooked smile back. "But let's stay here a little longer."

He laid his head back to rest in the water, more content than he had been in a long time.


	5. Chapter 5

They stayed in the water a little while longer, relaxing in the shade of the mushrooms. The water was cool, but after getting used to the temperature it was soothing. After an hour or so they got out to lie on the mossy bank and dry off. They lay down, side by side, staring at the patches of sky that were visible far above. The smog was still present, but clung to the air with less tenacity. The sky was a deep greenish blue, similar but less intense than the aquamarine water.

After lying on the banks and watching the clouds pass by overhead for half an hour, Rory got up to check their gear. Illya's armor had all dried off, but Rory's fatigues were still damp. It wouldn't be comfortable walking in them.

It struck him that he didn't know what their destination was. Before, they had just been getting away from the battlefield, heading towards the forest. Now they were here, he didn't know what direction they should take. Before, all he had wanted to do was escape and make it back to Imperial lines. But now he wasn't so sure. It was relaxing not having to worry about drills or officers or combat. For the first time desertion crossed his mind. Maybe it would be better to stay with Illya, at least for now. He could always find his way back later.

"Where are we going, Illya?" Rory said, turning towards the alien girl. She propped herself up on her elbows, looking at him. Her brown hair was almost dry, and she pushed it back across her forehead. Rory wished that he could talk to her.

She still was undressed, and she rolled onto her stomach, resting her forehead on her crossed arms. Rory couldn't help but glance at her almost perfect butt as he pulled on his pants. She looked over her shoulder at him, looking extremely disinterested in leaving.

He slipped his arms into the sleeves of his tank top pulling it over his head. Illya watched the muscles ripple across his chest as he did so. He had always been a lanky kid, but basic training had helped him bulk out. He wasn't exactly beefy now, but he wasn't skinny either. His dog tags jangled on his chest as he tucked his shirt in and buckled up his belt.

"C'mon, we need to get going." He said, pulling on his damp socks and boots. Illya grumbled to herself, burying her face in her arms. Rory stomped over dramatically, wrapping his hands around her waist and lifting the girl to her feet. She whined, but once she was up moved over to her gear. She pulled on her jumpsuit, and began buckling her now pristine white armor on.

After packing all of his loose gear into his bag, Rory was ready to go. Illya finished putting on the last few pieces of armor, and nodded to the Imperial before sliding her helmet on to her head.

Illya began to walk, heading away from the warzone and deeper into the mushroom glades. Rory's leg felt much better, and the pain had almost ceased entirely. He had cleaned out the wound while he was in the water, and was happy to see that there was very little infection. The cut had scabbed over, and was healing nicely.

The glades seemed alive and vibrant compared to the absolute desolation of the wasteland. Animals chirped and ticked to each other off in the gloom. Spores floated through the still air, lighting up when they passed through rays of sunlight filtering through the canopy above. Strange ferns rose to knee height, making dips in the ground and particularly large rocks a hazard.

It was about an hour later when Illya stopped dead in her tracks. Rory came to a halt as well. He looked at the Eldar, and then looked around. He couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, just the stalks of the mushrooms and the impenetrable gloom. They were in a particularly dense section of the glades.

Then he noticed it too. The animals had fallen silent. Illya moved up to a nearby tree, crouching down behind it amongst the ferns and underbrush. Rory followed her, keeping behind the tree. He began to hear the sound of an engine. It was distinctly Imperial from the dirty cough of burning promethium.

A minute later and a group of guardsmen came into view. Their rebreathers were slung around their necks, and their weapons were held at ease. They were advancing in front of a chimera, spread out in a wedge formation with their heads sweeping left and right, scanning for danger. They wore Cadian armor, but Rory didn't recognize their regiment.

The patrol was less than a hundred meters away. Judging by their trajectory, they would pass right by the pairs hiding place. There was nowhere to hide. Even if Rory wanted to run to them, which he wasn't sure he was, they would shoot him as soon as they saw the Eldar. And he wasn't really comfortable with just ditching Illya. His mind scrambled for an idea, but nothing presented itself.

Illya took off her helmet, adjusting her hair. She looked up at Rory, fear in her eyes, before pulling her helmet back onto her head. She may have been able to beat Rory in close quarters fight, but she didn't have a hope against ten guardsmen and their transport. The patrol was drawing closer, now less than seventy-five meters away.

Just when things seemed hopeless there was a crack far off to the right. A guardsman lurched as his head vaporized in a red mist. The body dropped to its knees and then slumped forwards onto its chest, disappearing in the undergrowth. The Guardsmen hesitated for a moment, taking a second to realize they were under fire. There was another crack, and another guardsman slumped to the ground, disappearing into the undergrowth.

"Sniper, three o'clock! Find cover!" The sergeant shouted. The guardsmen scattered, taking cover behind mushrooms, a couple of them ducking behind the Chimera. The co-driver, who had been unbuttoned out the top hatch, ducked down, slamming the hatch closed. The multi laser turret traversed searching for a target.

There was another crack, and a chunk was blown out of the stalk of a mushroom, behind which a guardsman cowered. Spores and pale white organic matter sprayed through the air.

"He's up ahead sergeant, behind a tree!" A guardsman called out. There was another crack and the man who had called out the shot cried out in pain. The snipers shot had grazed him, tearing the fabric of his jacket and cutting into the meat of his arm.

"Three hundred meters, behind that tree. Glyph, Tarrek, Hallow. I want you to give covering fire. Everyone else, on me!" The guardsmen all popped out at once, blasting shots downrange at the snipers presumed position. The sniper fired again, and an advancing guardsman stumbled backwards, his chest blown out. The Chimera turret followed the soldier's las fire, opening up with the multi laser.

Ferns were shredded and chunks of pulverized fungus were blown into the air. There was a loud cracking noise and a mushroom toppled over, smashing into the forest floor with the head snapping off into giant pieces.

The four remaining guardsmen were leapfrogging forward; two firing while the other two sprinted up to cover before switching roles. They closed the distance quickly. There was a huffing noise, a burst of smoke and fire, then a flamer came to life with a hissing, blanketing the snipers position in burning gelatinous promethium.

After a moment the four guardsmen converged on the scorched area of forest, making their way around spots of still burning promethium. One of them nudged something with his foot, before nodding towards the sergeant.

"Regroup on me!" The sergeant called to the remaining guardsmen. The three men who had given covering fire clambered on top of the chimera, and it trundled off towards their four squad mates. One of them was still clutching his wounded arm.

The group formed up and moved off, continuing their patrol. They left behind the signs of battle; las riddled mushrooms, crushed undergrowth and small fires slowly burning themselves out.

Rory crept forwards, staying low to the ground. The first body he came across lay on its front, the back of the head entirely blown out. Chunks of Cadian pattern helmet lay scattered around it. Rory knelt down, grabbing the lasrifle and turning the body on to its back. The face was surprisingly intact, a thumb sized hole right between the eyes. The soldier had a surprised look on his face. He was probably the second one to go down. The dead guardsman looked young, probably the same age as Rory.

The sentinel pilot began fishing las power packs out of the dead soldiers webbing. As he did so, a piece of paper lodged in a pocket came loose, drifting to the ground. Rory picked it up and looked at it. It was a pictograph, folded and worn from being handled. It depicted a young man, the same one who lay dead before him. He wore a dress uniform, and a pretty red headed girl clung to his back. They were both smiling. 'I'll wait for you' was written in black pen across the bottom.

Rory folded the pictography back up and tucked it back into the dead infantry mans breast pocket, buttoning it closed. He closed the soldier's eyes, and sat back on his haunches, staring at the dead man. He finished grabbing the remaining laspacks and got to his feet. Illya stood behind him, watching.

After filling his webbing with all of the dead soldier's las magazines he nodded towards Illya. His expression remained completely neutral as he took one last look at the young man lying before him. A pool of blood had spread around the soldier's head, and the colour had drained from his face.

They started walking again. He pondered the situation as they continued their silent march through the glades. If there was an Imperial patrol that meant that they weren't heading towards Eldar lines. On the other hand, they wouldn't be sending a patrol this far from the main combat zone if the Imperial lines were nearby.

Presumably they were in some sort of contested area, perhaps along one of the army's flanks. He didn't know where Illya's intended destination was, but this meant that it probably wasn't Eldar lines. Rory couldn't think of any reason why she wouldn't want to return to her kind.

His thoughts drifted to the dead soldier. Death was common in the Imperial guard, and seeing a stranger gunned down by the sniper meant almost nothing. Sure, Rory had felt a pang of guilt, wishing he could have helped and fought alongside the guardsmen. But he hadn't really felt any remorse at the loss of life.

But seeing the dead soldier up close, seeing how young he was and how he had a girlfriend, presumably waiting for him up in space. That was difficult. The guardsman had a life to return to, friends and loved ones who would never see him again. It made Rory realize how weakly he clung to existence.

The day wore on, with little else happening. The mushrooms grew larger, and closer together as the strange forest got denser and denser the deeper they travelled. Rory had been drinking water through out the day, and they stopped at a creek in the mid-afternoon so he could fill his canteen and they could rest.

They both sat on a boulder on the edge of the small stream. Illya dipped her armored feet in the sandy creek, and they both watched the water rolling over and around her boots. She took off her helmet, fixing it to a loop on her belt. She tied back her hair in a ponytail. Rory leaned back on his hands. The sound of the water rolling over the pebbles was relaxing, and he could feel his eyes drooping.

He felt pressure on his shoulder and looked over in surprise. Illya was resting her head on his shoulder. She was staring off into the distance, her eyes unfocussed. She turned her head to look up at Rory.

"Oedd bod y cariad Mans?" She said with a sad tone. He guessed that she was talking about the dead man, but he had no idea what she was trying to say. Rory smiled a sad smile. It was probably strange for her to see a human, who she could only know as the enemy, with the picture of his loved one.

They sat there for a while longer, with Illya resting her head on his shoulder. Alien birds chirped in the trees, making a strange melodic warbling. It sounded sad and nostalgic, and reminded Rory of a song they would sing in the pub back home. He had never been a great singer, but he sung it under his breath.

_I met my love by the gas works wall  
>Dreamed a dream by the old canal<br>Kissed a girl by the factory wall_

_Dirty old town_

_Dirty old town_

_Clouds a drifting across the moon  
>Cats a prowling on their beat<br>Spring's a girl in the street at night  
>Dirty old town<br>Dirty old town  
>Heard a siren from the docks<br>Saw a ship set the night on fire  
>Smelled the spring on the smoky wind<br>Dirty old town  
>Dirty old town<br>I'm going to make me a big sharp axe  
>Shining steel tempered in the fire<br>I'll chop you down like an old dead tree  
>Dirty old town<br>Dirty old town_

By the end of it Illya was humming softly along. She looked at him when he finished and he looked back, holding her gaze. He didn't know why he had been thinking so much of home lately, but just singing the song gave him an almost painful pang of nostalgia, reminding him of nights spent in the smoky confines of the pub down by the space port.

"We should get moving." He said, standing up. It felt more and more difficult to get on the move again after every time they sat down together. Rory didn't like it. As they walked Illya whistled the tune of the song. Rory smiled as she added more and more parts to it each time through.

The rest of the day progressed slowly. Nightfall descended, and the sounds of animals died away. The forest looked strange at twilight, and equally strange in the darkness. They continued their pace for a while, before Rory tapped Illya on the shoulder, letting her know he wanted to stop. His leg was starting to get sore again.

They found an old dried up stream, and crawled beneath the undercut bank. The ground was silty and soft, and comfortable to lie on. Rory unslung his lasgun and removed his webbing and pack. He didn't even bother with the uncomfortable standard issue sleeping role. The soft ground was more comfortable, and the night was warm enough that it wasn't needed.

He pushed himself back against the meter long overhang, leaving enough room for Illya. She unclipped her helmet from her belt and left it with Rory's gear, along with her weapons. She let her hair down and crawled up close to the Imperial soldier, with her back facing towards him.

Rory lay there for a moment, his head all of a sudden filled with emotions. He hesitantly reached out his hand and put it under her torso, pulling her up against him. She let out a gasp of surprise but didn't move away. His hand moved up to her shoulder and he held her close.

Illya pressed up against him, her body pushing into his. He could feel her warmth through her armor and his fatigues. He felt his eyes water but he suppressed the urge to cry. His culture had always been about the stiff upper lip attitude, and he had always been taught to try and not show his emotions. But the weight of the events of the last few days was pressing down on him. For the first time in a long time he felt more secure, holding on to someone.

Rory realized with growing horror exactly what was happening. Slowly but surely, he was falling in love with the Eldar girl. He didn't know how, and wasn't exactly sure why, considering they couldn't even communicate. But he couldn't push the nagging feeling away. He felt nauseous at the thought.

He could tell from her steady breathing that she had fallen asleep. She shifted a little, nuzzling her head under Rory's. He loosened his grip on her shoulder, realizing that he was starting to clench to tightly. His mind was spinning, and he tried to relax. There was nothing he could do about it right now, so he might as well try and get some rest. Slowly Rory drifted off to sleep, the sounds of the darkened forest filling his ears.

**Two chapters in two days? What is this! The song is not mine, I am no songwriter. It's an English folk song called dirty old town, popularized by the Dubliners. Excellent song and well worth checking out. I thought it was appropriate as Rory comes from an industrialized world, which he misses.**

**Now that I'm on break I'll hopefully be able to get a fair amount of writing done. I've been getting some really nice reviews, and I really appreciate all of them. Honestly, it's the reviews that help my writing or give me more incentive to write. Cheers guys!**


	6. Chapter 6

_Rain poured down from the dark heavens, impacting with the ground and splashing in puddles like millions of tiny artillery shells. Rory walked down the grey street, head down and hood up. He was soaking wet, but didn't mind. He was used to the rain and the cold._

_It was twilight, and the street lamps shone through the heavy rain, reflecting off the puddles in the cobblestone street. Seagulls could be heard off in the distance, squawking to each other as they returned to their roosts. The crash of the surf against the sea wall a couple blocks away was also audible over the downpour._

_There was flash as a bolt of lightning illuminated the dark grey clouds. A second later and the rumbling of thunder washed over the Imperial citizen. Rory was almost home now, and he looked forwards to drying off and getting something hot to drink._

_Rory walked along the row of industrialized terrace houses where he lived. He got to his door, indistinguishable from the rest aside from the address, and stood in the cover of the doorframe. He fumbled for his keys before unlocking the door and letting himself in. He dropped his rain jacket over a chair in the front hall and pulled off his soaking work boots. He made his way through the darkened house to the kitchen. The storm could be heard outside, rain pattering off the windows and roof and the grumble of distant thunder._

_Much to Rory's surprise, there was a light on in the kitchen. He had lived by himself since moving out of his parents place a couple years before, and his girlfriend had left him months ago. He wondered if she had come back, perhaps out of money and looking for a place to stay. It wouldn't be surprising, considering the state of the local economy of late._

_But as Rory walked in the kitchen he was met not by the fair hair of his ex girlfriend but by a figure pouring hot water from the old black kettle into a teapot who had brown hair just past her shoulders. She finished pouring the water and turned to face Rory._

_Illya smiled her faint smile. Rory loved how just the very corners of her mouth turned up, and her eyes twinkled. She wore tight black leggings and an olive green bomber jacket, common among working class woman. It was difficult to tell she was xenos, aside from her thin features and the tell tale tips of her ears, protruding from her hair._

_She walked towards Rory slowly, her hips swaying from side to side. When she got close, so their chests were almost touching, she stopped. She reached up, putting her arms over his shoulders, her hands touching together behind his head. She looked into his eyes, her upper teeth just barely pressing down on her lower lip._

"_Why can't you love me?" She said, her voice sultry and low. Rory felt like he was rooted to the spot._

_She stood on her tippy toes, leaning in so that her breasts pressed against Rory's chest. She planted her lips gently on his before pulling her head back just enough so she could look into his eyes. They stood facing off for a moment, her standing on her toes with her arms around his neck, him staying almost perfectly still like a statue._

_She leaned in again. This time she meant business, and her lips locked with his. Her mouth opened just enough to let her tongue dart out, gliding over Rory's closed lips. His mouth opened to her, and her tongue entered, moving across his teeth. Rory's hands travelled slowly down her sides to rest with a hand cupping each of her firm ass cheeks._

_The kiss got more passionate, and their tongues danced back and forth between their mouths. Her hands came around to his front and started tugging at the buttons of his flannel jacket. He released his hands long enough to let the button up jacket slide off. Illya unzipped her own jacket, letting it drop to the ground. She wore a sleeveless white blouse, which exposed much of her cleavage._

_Rory broke the kiss and reached down with both hands, pulling his white t-shirt off. There was a jangle, and the young man looked down with horror as his dog tags hung free from their confines._

_**Bang Bang Bang!**__ There was a hammering at the door._

"_This is the Commissariat. Open this door!" Rory back away from the Eldar and she smiled a sad smile at him. There was more banging, followed by the sound of glass shattering._

"_I just wanted some tea." Rory said, backing away. "I just wanted some tea!"_

"I just wanted some tea. I just wanted some tea." Rory woke with a start. He realized that he had just been muttering to himself in his sleep. Illya was facing him, a look of concern etched on her face. He could feel his body damp with a cold sweat and he shuddered. _That was weird _he thought to himself, trying to shake the afterimage of Illya locked in embrace with him.

The real Illya leaned close and whispered something to him. She looked almost frightened, and Rory realized that it was probably pretty horrifying to wake up in such a foreign place with some creep muttering away next to you.

She tucked her head beneath his and wrapped her arms around him, holding the Imperial soldier tight. His immediate reaction was to pull away, but he resisted. It wasn't her fault he was having dirty dreams. She nuzzled her head into the Imperial soldier's neck and let out a sigh. He almost laughed as her breath tickled his collarbone, but pushed down the urge.

Rory wrapped his arms around her and returned the embrace. The dream had been pretty frightening, and if felt good to hold on to someone. He wondered to himself why he had been dreaming of home so much lately. Since joining the guard, he had few regrets about leaving his lower working class life behind. But lately, he had started having strange pangs of nostalgia.

It was still pitch black outside, and the mushroom forest had fallen silent in the dead of the early morning. Rory shifted a little, letting Illya's head rest in a more comfortable position. He could feel pressure from her nose pressing into neck. He knew she wasn't asleep, as he couldn't hear her deep regulated breathing.

She shifted a little, resting her head on its side on his chest. He brought his free hand up, running it across the top of her head and down her neck. She let out a content sigh. Rory felt her arm moving, and her hand fumbled towards his own. She webbed her small fingers between his much larger ones, giving his tough, calloused hand a squeeze. He returned the squeeze and fell asleep soon after, her hand in his.

Rory woke to the morning light filtering through the moss and roots of the overhang. Illya's hand was still clutching on to his, and she was asleep. Rory slowly uncurled his fingers from hers and carefully slipped out from under the sleeping girl. She murmured something in her sleep as he did so but didn't wake.

Crawling out from the safety of the riverbank Rory stood up, arching his back and stretching his arms out. Other than feeling a little stiff he felt pretty good. He pulled the leg of his pants up to check on his wound, and much to his elation the infection had almost died down completely.

Rory pulled out his backpack from their mutual pile of gear. Rifling through he found the last protein bar. There was plenty of water now, but they would need to find food soon. He wished that he had remembered to grab the dead soldiers rations, and hoped that it wouldn't prove to be a fatal mistake.

He looked over at Illya. She was awake now, and was staring at the Imperial soldier with her deep blue eyes. He smiled at her and she returned the smile. Rory broke his protein bar in half and leaned over, handing Illya the other half. She took it, nodding to him as an expression of appreciation. She held the food using the tips of her small fingers, taking a hesitant nibble.

Her face morphed into an expression of pure disgust and Rory fell over with laughter. She squinted her eyes shut and stuck the end of her tongue out at the Imperial, who was struggling to try and get it together. This only made him laugh harder. Illya tried to maintain an expression of anger, but the corners of her mouth twitched up, and soon they were both laughing.

It reminded Rory of back in the pond when he had almost drowned the poor girl. He made a mental note of teaching her how to swim at some point. After a minute he managed to get his shit together and he pushed himself back into a sitting position. Illya was still lying over on the ground with her head on her arm, but her laughter had died down to a happy giggle.

Illya managed to get the rest of the food down her throat with a lot of effort and not much help from Rory. Every time she tried to take a bite he would make a face, and she would have to put it down, as another fit of giggles would wash over her. She finished and playfully punched his shoulder, smiling. In her effort to eat the food she had managed to get bits of the terrible tasting standard issue rations stuck to the corner of her mouth. Rory leaned over and wiped it off with the edge of his thump.

They loaded up and got moving, always continuing deeper into the forest. As the day went by it got colder and colder and it wasn't long before Rory could see his breath frosting in the air. Within the hour the first snowflakes began drifting down.

Rory had never seen snow before. It rarely got below zero back home, and when it did the pollution in the air was enough to prevent the water in the air from freezing. It started slowly at first, big white flakes drifting slowly down between the gaps in the trees. Rory was concerned that it was ash from a fire, but quickly realized what it was when a snowflake landed on his nose. He crossed his eyes to look at the frozen flake of water.

Illya was just as amazed as Rory was by the snow, and tilted her head back to try and catch a flake on her tongue. Within twenty minutes the snow was coming down harder, and it drifted in torrents from the gaps in the mushroom canopy, the wind making it dance and swirl towards the forest floor below. The breeze was picking up, and Rory turned the collar of his field jacket up to the cold.

The day grew darker as the clouds thickened far above. The forest fell into a dim half-light and everything seemed to be in shadow. The darkness combined with the falling snow limited the already pour visibility, and Rory constantly stayed on his guard, las rifle at the ready. He listened for the sounds of engines over the whistling of the wind between the mushroom stalks.

Illya on the other hand was having the time of her life. She walked along with her head tilted back, eyes closed. She wasn't looking where she was going, and kept on tripping on the underbrush and bumping into the increasingly annoyed Imperial soldier. Each time she would stumble into him she would throw him a goofy apologetic look and he would glare at her.

The day drew on, and by midday Rory was hungry, cold and grumpy. The snow had lost its initial charm, and now he just wanted to be somewhere warm with a beer and hot food. Illya on the other hand was still having a great time, and although she had stopped trying to catch every single snowflake that passed by, she still wore a big grin on her face.

They stopped to rest and have a drink of water. Rory could feel bits of ice sloshing about in his canteen as he drank it. He handed the water to Illya and she had a drink before they set off again. The sun was sinking in the sky, and long dark shadows extended along the forest floor. Snow continued to drift from the holes in the canopy, although it came down with less ferocity. There was a thin couple centimeter thick layer of snow blanketing the ferns along the forest floor. As they walked the snow was brushed off of the low-lying undergrowth, leaving two green trails behind the pair. Rory noticed this with dismay, as any one would have absolutely no trouble following them.

It was late in the afternoon when Illya came to a sudden halt, putting her hand on Rory's shoulder to stop him. He stopped moving, turning towards the alien girl. They fell quiet. It was almost completely silent aside from the whistling of the wind. Then Rory heard it. There was a crack, and Rory and Illya both dropped simultaneously.

A las red las bolt whistled past where they had been standing a moment before. It impacted with a mushroom. Black smoke drifted from the charred hole in the giant fungus. There were shouts far off in the distance, and Illya put a finger to her mouth, signaling for Rory to be quiet. As if he needed the command.

She slowly raised her head peeking around. Rory followed, raising his head just above the ferns. Sure enough, off in the distance three or four figures were visible through the gloom. They were a couple hundred meters away, and it was difficult to make out their silhouettes through the snow and shadows. But it was obvious that they were heading towards the pairs position.

Illya reached for her pistol but Rory stopped her hand. He wasn't ready to kill friendly troops unless it was absolutely necessary. He could hear the shouts of the soldiers as they closed in. Rory nodded to Illya, and they both set off in the opposite direction, moving as quickly as possible while staying low to the ground.

Rory's mind scrambled. They couldn't continue like this. As soon as the Imperial soldiers saw the trail they were leaving there would be no escaping. And it would be almost impossible to miss the two big green trails in the snow. Rory looked around, looking for any escape to their current situation. But nothing presented itself.

It was at that moment, as they scrambled away from the guardsmen, that the situation went from bad to worse. Illya stopped, pointing off in the distance. Rory didn't see anything at first. But his eyes quickly focused, and sure enough a line of silhouettes was advancing towards them. Rory realized that the group that had first spotted them must have been scouting the flank of a larger platoon strength force.

Illya and Rory both simultaneously got to their feet, breaking into a run. There were shouts from behind them, and las shots began landing around them, melting snow and tearing into the mushrooms. They sprinted as fast as they could, weaving in between the trees, leaping over shallow gullies and vaulting boulders. Rory looked around, searching for any sort of way out, but there was nothing.

Illya tugged on Rory's arm. She was much faster than he was, but she didn't have very good endurance, and started to fall behind. They came to a halt, slipping on the snow. Illya crouched down behind a tree, her chest heaving and the air condensing as it left her mouth. The large group of men was gaining on them. They were following the trails in the snow, and were covering the ground quickly.

Rory kicked the mushroom in frustration. He swore as his boot lodged itself in the tough springy material that made up the stalks. He tugged Illya to her feet and was about to start running again when an idea struck him. He kicked his foot into the base of the mushroom, making sure it was deep enough before reaching up and digging his hands deep into the fungus. He tested his weight and sure enough it held.

Illya looked confused for a second, her face a mixture of terror and befuddlement. But she quickly realized what Rory was doing. The Sentinel pilot began scaling the mushroom like a ladder, spores drifting down around him as he started to climb. He picked up speed and Illya followed, putting her hands and feet in the holes that Rory had made. In no time at all they were at the top of the Mushroom.

The platoon was closing in. The men were spread out, flashlights sweeping left and right as they checked the underbrush. Rory took out his combat knife and made sure he his foot holds were firm before hacking in a stabbing motion at the soft bottom of the cap of the mushroom.

Chunks fungus dropped away as Rory hacked away. He quickly broke through, and a minute later had made a large enough hole for Illya and him to fit through. They scaled the last few meters, rolling on to the top of the mushroom.

Twilight was descending and it was brighter above then it had been down below without the shadow of the forest. The caps of the mushrooms stretched off into the distance as far as they could see through the swirling snow. It came down heavier up in the open, and there were a couple of inches on the caps of the mushrooms. The mushroom caps that they could see varied from five meters across to about fifteen meters. Although the stalks down below had been reasonably spaced out, the caps were clustered very close together up here, with a small gap in-between each one.

Rory took off at a jog. He got to the edge of the mushroom they had come up on and leapt the gap. He stared down, seeing the forest floor far below momentarily before landing. He had been so focused on clearing the gap that when he landed his feet shot out on the slippery snow. Rory slammed down onto his ass, and scrambled away from the edge in a panic. He looked back to see Illya covering her mouth with her hands, trying not to laugh.

She sprinted to the edge and leapt, landing gracefully with a somersault. She came up on her feet, stretching her hands out to her sides and bowing. "Ta-da!" She said, barely loud enough for Rory to hear. He chuckled and they took off, Illya leading.

They leaped from mushroom to mushroom. The snow slowly petered out, and the clouds cleared to reveal two moons, one green and one blue. They ran, the strange moonlight guiding their way. Illya continued the direction they had been taking before running into the platoon. They covered ground much faster than they had down on the forest floor, and they maintained their jog late into the night. It was just after midnight that they stopped for a rest, lying down side by side on a particularly large mushroom.

The wind whistled past, unimpeded as it had been down below. All of the mushrooms had a slight slope to them, with a shallow peak in the middle and the pair rested on the leeward side of the mushroom. Rory shivered from the cold as the thin layer of sweat that had formed from the jogging cooled. Illya leaned up against him, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his chest. He could feel her heart beating quickly from the running, thumping against his lower ribs. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

There was a gnawing pain starting at the base of his stomach. Rory knew that they needed to find food soon. But he felt himself relaxing into the soft top of the mushroom, the gorgeous alien girl hugging herself close to him. A smile crept over the Sentinel pilots face. Despite the hunger in his stomach, he felt happy and at peace with his world. They were lucky to have made it away from the patrol.

A little while later and they were on their way again, running through the light wind and snow. The night dragged on, the hours slowly blending together. Their feet fell into a pattern of steps, punctuated by leaps. By the time the morning light began creeping over the horizon Rory's legs felt like Jell-O and his lungs felt like they were full of glass from the frigid early morning air.

It was about half an hour before day break when the mushrooms came to an abrupt halt. Rory and Illya both skidded to a halt, their feet scrambling to find traction. Illya slipped and landed on her ass and Rory grabbed a hold of her hand just before her momentum took her over the edge. Once they had both regained their composure they crept forwards, peering out into the early morning gloom.

The forest, at least as far as they could see, came to an indefinite end. In front of them stretched a frozen lake. Wind blew dry snow in little whirlwinds across the glassy surface. Along the banks of the frozen expanse small snowdrifts had begun to form from the nights snowfall. As Rory's eyes drifted along the shore of the lake they came to rest on a noticeable object, standing out from the solid white of the surrounding snow.

Off in the distance, perhaps a kilometer away, Rory could just make out a tiny shack nestled in a small inlet. It was difficult to see through falling snow, but it was clear that there weren't any lights on. Rory pointed, and Illya's eyes quickly came to rest on the shelter. Hopefully there would be food inside, whether the owners were around or not.

After stabbing through the top of the mushroom they were perched on, the pair began the slow and dangerous descent down the stalk of the mushroom. At the half way mark Rory looked up to see the foamy fungus that supported Illya's lowest foot crumbling a little. He was about to comment when it suddenly gave way. With a squawk of terror Illya lost her grip and plummeted, taking the horrified Imperial with her. They landed in a heap at the base of the mushroom, Rory letting out a groan of pain.

He was winded, and it took him a moment to regain his senses. Illya lay prone on top of him, and he had to roll her off. She was dazed, and gave him a thankful smile for providing her with a soft landing. He grunted a malcontented reply and they both wearily got to their feet, dusting off snow.

The walk along the frigid shoreline seemed to last for an eternity. Rory kept his head bowed against the driving wind, and his black beret did little to protect him from the ice and snow. Illya walked behind him in his footsteps. The sun had risen by the time they drew close to the little inlet, illuminating what they could see of the lake in a hazy early morning light.

A little wooden path, barely visible beneath the thin snow cover, ran the short distance from the point of the inlet to the cottage. A small, ancient looking wooden dock stretched a few meters into the water, and it was held firmly in the ices grip. A gothic looking cast iron lamp sat on a wooden post at the foot of the dock, unlit. Clay pots sat in a cluster at the bottom of the path, the plants withered and dead.

The pair made their way up the short path. The cottage was low, only a single story. The roof stretched out over a small porch, and the walls were made of plaster and wood. The windows were frosted around the edges and the wooden frames were cracked with age.

Rory and Illya crept slowly and carefully up to the small house. Rory noted that there were no footsteps in the snow, which meant no one had come or gone in the last twelve hours. Peering over a large woodpile on the porch, the pair could make out a little bed in one corner, as well as a wood burning stove and a small table with two wooden chairs. No one was in the bed, and there were no lights on. Rory breathed a sigh of relief.

The door was locked but a firm shoulder popped the lock out of its screws and sent it clattering to the floor. The house was cold, and a layer of dust had settled across everything in the single room. It was obvious that no one had been through in a while. Rory set his gun and webbing down on the table before going out side to grab an armload of logs for the fire. Illya rifled through the cupboards and upon his return she held up a couple tins of food with an exuberant cheer.

After getting a fire going in the stove they set the tinned soup on to cook in a saucepan they found in a different cupboard. The stove filled the small cabin with the pleasant smell of pinewood. Rory wondered where the wood had come from, as he hadn't seen a single tree since leaving home. He wasn't too concerned as there was a sizable pile outside.

In no time at all the cabin had warmed up, and they had food in their stomachs. It was still early in the morning when they both relaxed back in their chairs content. Rory had long since thrown his jacket over a coat rack by the door, along with their weapons. His socks were drying by the fire; Illya had taken off her armor leaving her only in her formfitting black jumpsuit.

It had begun to snow harder again, and Rory hoped that they were far enough away to make it unlikely that any Imperial patrols would stumble upon them. If they were far enough outside of the combat zone then troops wouldn't be committed to scouting uncontested areas.

Rory wondered who the previous owners were and where they were now. He wasn't too worried about it, as this was probably some sort of hunting shack that was used in the summer. The layer of dust that they had needed to sweep off attested to this theory. Even if any one had been around to use the cabin at this time of year, the combat would have scared them off.

Illya folded her arms on the table resting her chin on her forearms. Her blue eyes stared intently at Rory, and he grinned back at her like an idiot. He was so happy that they had not only found food, but also shelter. He stood, walking over to the stove to check the wood. There was still plenty, and it was burning nicely. Rory heard the chair slide out, and he turned to see Illya facing him. She was looking down at her hands and fidgeting. She glanced up, her blue eyes locking with his brown ones. It was obvious she wanted to communicate, and was getting frustrated with her inability to do so. Rory wished more than anything that they could just sit down and talk.

Suddenly his dream came back to him. He saw himself holding Illya in his arms, their mouths locked together. He thought back to the last few days, the comfort of holding the gorgeous alien in his arms. Rory didn't know if it was due to exhaustion or pent up emotions but the next thing he knew his arms were wrapped around the girl, his lips pressed to hers. She let out a gasp of surprise.


End file.
